


The Bat Cave

by DustToDust



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's worked at a different haunted house every year since he was nine. He's seen everything from charities to con fronts in his time and isn't really impressed by it anymore. The Bat Cave is on a whole other level though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, unless I want to move way South or way North, I will never see the beauty that is The Bat Cave. Yes, I work haunts in October and have dreams about my ideal house. Let me share them with you via Timmy here.

Tim walks up to the building. The front door is propped open and no one is in sight. He enters after a small debate with himself about how smart of an idea this whole thing is. The Bat Cave has been a rather successful haunted house that's been open for over a decade. It's well known and the man who runs it is a public figure known for doing many different things in the community. It's not some shell company hiding an evil plot to abduct healthy people and sell their organs on the black market.

"Hello?" Tim's voice echoes oddly in the flat black room he finds himself in. The air is filled with the smell of new paint and the wall opposite the door looks a little wet still. There's nothing around to steal but Tim still feels uncomfortable about the open door being left unmanned. The message he'd gotten from Bruce --all email and Facebook so far-- had told him to be here at this time for a meeting. Tim's only three minutes early. Enough to not be late, but not so early that he'd be alone.

There's a shuffle from the door in the corner and Tim waits patiently as he hears the scuffing of feet that precede a tall, dark haired man. The man is already grinning as he swings around the door, but it grows brighter as he sees Tim. "Hi! Hey, are you," the man's face screws up faintly as he searches before relaxing again, "Tim! Tim Drake, right?"

"Yeah," Tim offer his hand and gets an enthusiastic handshake. The man is older than him, and wearing dirty a dusty t-shirt over worn jeans. "Um, you're not-"

"Nope, Bruce is going to be late. Something came up at work. I'm Dick Grayson," Dick says as he turns back to the door. Waving for Tim to follow him, and Tim doesn't question it anymore. He's never seen the man before, but his name had come up when Tim was researching the history of the house. "I help him run things around here between seasons, and when we're open I oversee the front."

The Ringleader. Tim's seen a few videos of Dick in full costume and makeup playing the waiting crowd with stories and tricks. Cheap scares and things to get them in the right mind set. He follows Dick down a series of hallways that are brightly lit. Enough for Tim to see the paint and details on them that'll look perfect in the dark. There's a lot of detail to be seen and Tim has to skip most of it to catch up to Dick.

It's a lot different from the houses he's worked in before. Mostly small things run by charities, and a few houses that were only excuses for the men running them to suck out as much money from investors as possible before closing up and running away. They were all cheaply done though. Drywall halls with flat black paint and actors in masks and clothes they paid for themselves. The Bat Cave promises to be different already just from this brief walk.

"You said you've worked a few place before. What roles did you play?" Dick asks as he kicks open a door and leads him into a fenced off back yard. People wander around. Moving boxes and half-finished props in a choreographed dance of chaos.

There's a high pitched whine of a saw cutting wood, and Tim raises his voice to be heard over it. "Mostly they hid me in a corner to jump out at people. I used to be a lot smaller," Tim shrugs at Dick's incredulous look that takes in the several inches of height difference between them. "I'd work hallway corners, and drop doors if they had them."

"How about getting killed?" Dick makes a line to the back corner where stacks of wood beams wait to get cut by a man covered in sawdust. Two women waiting to take the cut pieces and give him more in a smooth assembly that's obviously been practiced a lot. "No offense, but first year actors here usually don't get big speaking roles. Bruce usually doesn't let anyone even talk their first year here, but we need a victim for Steph the Spoiler to murder in out boiler room."

"I can scream," Tim says in time for one of the girls to look up with a blinding grin.

"Aw, he's so cute!" She coos as she abandons her duties. Coming up to run a hand through Tim's hair. Turning his face side to side in a way that makes Tim want to open his mouth so she can examine his teeth too. She turns her grin onto Dick, her blonde head nodding in approval. "You did good this time, getting me such a pretty victim. I'm Steph, by the way."

"Yeah," the man at the saw turns around and shakes a small storm of sawdust away. Tim finds himself staring at intriguing black lines that twist up some very solid looking arms before disappearing into a tank top. His grin is slanted and makes Tim want to step back a bit. "But is he a screamer or a moaner?"

Screamer, and Tim bites back to urge to ask the man if he wants to find out. It's never a good idea to lead off with sexual innuendo right off the bat. For Tim at least. "That's going to be between Steph and myself."

Dick cackles, and it's a first rate hair-raising cackle that Tim's a little envious of. "That's Jason, head of security. He's the guy you'll want to see coming when a drunk slips through the front doors. Cass," Dick nods towards the second girl who's been silent. A faint smile tugging her lips up. "Is one of out best chainsaw operators. She's a secret ninja so no one sees her coming until she revs up. Steph is who you'll be working with the most here," Steph grins, and there's a playful wickedness in her eyes that makes Tim think they'll get along just great. "She's out psychotic janitor who likes to make dolls out of pretty little things."

"You'll be perfect for my collection," Steph croons. Her voice dropping into a scratchy range that Tim knows probably took months to perfect. He'd once tried doing a Freddyesque voice without practice at a house and was nearly laughed out of it. "My pretty pretties, all lined up in a row."

She ends with a creepy laugh that Tim kind of wants to applaud. "Well, I'll do my best to stay pretty just for you."

"Charmer!" Steph laughs and smacks his shoulder before turning back to the wood pile. Cass stepping up with her as they wrestle another board out.

"Expecting anyone else today? Or is Pretty Doll #3 here it for today?" Jason asks Dick. Rubbing a dark line of dirt off of his forearms as he waits for the next board.

"Tim's it," Dick says, resting an arm lightly over Tim's closest shoulder. Leaning in a way that doesn't actually put any weight on him. "You going to get done with that stack anytime soon?"

"If _someone_ stops fucking interrupting I will," Jason spits back with a glare too offended to be real. He turns back to the saw as Cass and Steph feed the board on. Tim can see dark marks on the board at regular intervals. Jason flips his middle finger over his shoulder before steadying the board. "Go do the ritual signing away of the soul on the new guy and let me get some actual work done will you, Dickhead?"

The saw screams to life as Dick pulls him away with a laugh. Tim waits until they're back inside to ask, "Number three?"

"Yeah," Dick takes a different winding path. Cutting through some barely seen holes and doors. "We had Connor, the original Pretty Doll, for a while before he moved with his family two years ago. Pretty Doll the second-" Dick grimaces as he opens a door to what proves to be a rather messy looking office. "Let's just say he really didn't fit with us and leave it at that," Dick fishes out a green folder from under a pile of flyers and hands it to Tim before fishing out a pen from a drawer. "And now we got you! Pretty Doll the Third. Hope you don't mind it, but that's probably going to be your name here for a good long while. Especially if you stick with us to the next season."

There's an impressive stack of paper inside the folder. Employment forms, waivers, agreements. It's easily twice as many forms he's ever had to sign for a house. It's an encouraging sign that really sinks in the fact that Tim's -finally-- signing up for something different. Tim smiles at Dick. His fingers itch to sign away immediately, but he knows better. He's going to take the time to read these things. "I think I can live with that."

Dick's grin is wide and honest as he pulls a chair out for him to sit in. "That's what I was hoping to hear. Welcome to the Cave, Pretty Doll."


	2. Chapter 2

Tim's curled up in the area above the floor where all the lights and wiring run. It's a two foot tall space between the first and second floors that's well hidden when the lights are down but still give a person up in it a good view below. Steph's sitting cross legged besides him licking the foil top from a pudding cup clean. 

"That's bullshit!" Jason storms through the hallway. A tattered looking piece of paper in one hand that he's waving in the air as he yells into his cell phone. "This hallway _is_ up to your paranoid safety standards! No. No!"

Steph hands him an unopened cup as Jason paces a violent circle below him. He looks ready to put his fist through the wall. Again. 

"No you listen here," Jason snaps. "You can't send us a shut down notice for safety violations that don't fucking exist!"

Tim hands his foil top to Steph who cleans the scrap with relish. Jason makes a high strangled noise and the paper crumbles noisily in his fist. Tim doesn't have a spoon so he uses his finger as they both watch the interesting shades Jason's face turns. 

"Bullshit! So much fucking bullshit!" Jason's nearly screaming his lungs out now. "Do you know why that's bullshit? It's because you haven't sent anyone out to inspect us you ignorant, lying fuck!"

Jason breathes. Loud and harsh through his nose. His shoulders are tense and his entire body is tight with restrained anger. Steph makes an appreciative noise next to him. Her eyes going low. 

"Oh really?" Jason's voice goes sweet and light in a flash. "Well that's really interesting considering the building was locked up that day! What did your inspector do, break in to do his inspection? Without the owner or a representative present?"

Tim can't fault Steph though. Jason pacing, slow and predatory as he senses a weakness in his enemy is a nice picture. Tim hums as Jason grins and rolls his shoulders. His tight shirt showing off every ripple of his muscles. 

"Uh huh. Yeah," Jason's grin is triumphant and the anger melts off him in seconds. "That's what I thought dipshit. Your inspector better not be late or I'm coming _in_ to see _you_."

Steph balls up the foil and drops it into her empty cup. She lobs it with uncanny accuracy at Jason's head the second he's off the phone. "What the- Brown!"

Jason stomps down the hall. Eyes up and fixing on them both. He stands right under them arms crossed over his chest and scowling. "What's Bruce told you about monkeying around up there? You trying to be a bad example for your new Pretty Doll?"

"I'm a shining example of complete awesomeness that Pretty Doll should be _thankful_ for," Steph tosses her hair for effect even though it's in a ponytail and not very impressive. "Also, Bruce said it's fine as long as I don't break any bones. So what's the count this season in your on going war with the fire marshal?"

"It's not a war anymore," Jason snorts. "This new guy is such a fucking pushover it's not even fun anymore."

"It's not haunt season until an inspector throws their clipboard at Jason's head," Steph confides, loudly, to Tim. "He likes to get as close to breaking code as humanly possible while still being able to run."

"We're perfectly fine to run," Jason protests as he turns away. Bending down to pick up the trash Steph threw. Tim almost knocks his head against hers as they both tilt sideways to get a better view. "They're just fucking anal about stupid shit. Now finish testing the lights. Alfred's been looking to test some paint on Pretty Doll."

"Everything's good here," Steph says as she leans back against the beam she's on. Nesting comfortably and obviously. Jason snorts and begins to walk away. Tim swipes his finger around the cup one last time. He waits until Jason nearly reaches the corner before chucking it as hard as he can off his head. 

Jason whips around and narrows his eyes immediately on Tim. "Don't you even start with me new kid," he growls before bending down to pick it up. 

"Nice aim," Steph murmurs as they both watch the small show. Tim's throw stopping the man in a nice, bright spotlight they'd been testing. 

"I learn from a master," Tim says solemnly, "or so I'm told anyway. On a constant and daily basis."

Steph kicks him lightly. "Go see Alfred, Doll."

Tim slips down from the ceiling and grins up at the blonde woman before setting off. Slowly enough that he can follow directly behind Jason most of the way.


	3. Chapter 3

The Cave is massive. It's actually a series of building that've been connected together over the years as Bruce slowly bought out the surrounding area. It's nearly the size of city block now and does not touch any building that Bruce doesn't own. Most of the buildings are for storage, and not all of what's stored there is for the house. It's only the front half that's active area for them to use, but that's a big enough area all on it's own.

Tim went through the Cave the year before on a Sunday when he finished working a charity event. The crowds had thinned and it was close to the cutoff time. It took him a good forty minutes to run through the place, and even then Tim could tell that the Cave could easily go for an hour not including wait time. Which was a show in and of itself.

Dick flips, twists, and tumbles through the sets. In the front room there's an actual trapeze swing near a large window that's left open when they're running. The front of the building has a wider than normal ledge and several strategically placed bars. Pedestals have been put into the ground where the queue line forms. When running Dick will use it all like it's his own personal jungle gym. His feet never touching the ground as he flies over the guests' heads, acting his part and engaging the line. He tells Tim he was born and raised in a circus as an acrobat, and never grew out it. Tim believes him, remembering the man's act from before.

The main house is two floors. The bottom a twisting maze of corridors lit with flickering lights and giving out suddenly into open rooms filled with the twisted residents of the building. Mental patients escaped from their prisons and enacting a normal life as seen through their twisted minds. The rooms change each year, Tim's told, but a few stay due to popularity. The room choked in greenery and flowers that reach out to eat guests is tended by a red haired woman named Ivy who might as well be a plant herself. Harley's playroom is another. Clowns always good for the gut reaction scare, and, according to Steph, there's never been a better cackler in the house than her.

The second floor is accessed by a ramp that was specially constructed to allow anyone access to the house. It'd be an impractical waste of space if Bruce didn't own so much property and could expand as he likes.

The upper floor is for the bigger things. The animatronics and special effects that echo creepily to the ground floor. This year they're almost done constructing a rig in three of the rooms that will allow them to simulate the ground moving as the guests walk through. Chunks of foam shaped like concrete waiting to be thrown in so they can simulate the building coming down around them under an earthquake.

There are hidden halls going around most of the haunt. Bolt holes built especially to hide an actor, and doors and window constructed to look like just another part of the house everywhere. Not all of them will be used, but they're there if needed. It's possible to shadow a group through the entire house without them once knowing it's the same person reaching out to them through the walls.

"We did that once," Dick admitted when Tim asked, "but it was kind of a mess. Reset was an utter bitch, and it's just better when actors own an area."

The building used to be an office, and one of the first things done was the removal of the drop ceiling and the construction of a sturdy, false ceiling in it's place. Steph had shown Tim how sturdy when they climbed up into it to check the wiring on a spotlight that wouldn't come on. It can hold the weight of any people and devices they need to put up there. With the lights angled just right, the ceiling looks like it's rotting away from below. With big, gaping holes of blackness running mostly down the middle of the ceiling. Dark enough to hide speakers or an actor ready to reach down.

The first floor is set into a permanent configuration. The rooms and walls don't move. So, the detail work that's been put into it is amazing. Tim can easily spend an hour going through and marveling over the little touches that make even the walls seem like less of a set and more like an actual building. It's an effect that's only come from years of layering. Years of working to make it look that much better, more realistic. The second floor is done in standard black with walls that can move as needed, and the balance seems to work well.

At the end of the top floor is an elevator. A cramped and old looking thing that Bruce had cheerfully assured him was the safest thing in the house. It leads into the basement which is Steph's domain. Rusted, loud machines create a din that's cut by screams and recording of her creepy singing. Tim's room is near the end. A room of pipes that look the same as any other, but have a corner he can hide behind before throwing himself out and begging for help. He'll get about five or ten seconds to engage them before Spoiler comes out and drags him away to the next room. Her workshop. A warren of mannequins dressed up and painted to look more doll like. A few canisters that hold really realistic looking mannequins in what looks like liquid from the outside. Just enough to slow the group down as Tim and Steph race to the exit of the room where a work bench is out of sight. And then, Tim gets to scream as Spoiler works him over. Taking out the unnecessary red bits to make him another part of her permanent collection.

It's a mostly straight shot up and out a ramp that leads to the parking lot. With the lights getting brighter, the music fading, and --just as their guard is dropping-- Cass. Jason told him they get the most people peeing their pants in that area than any other. There aren't any alcoves or hidden areas in that straight shot, but Cass somehow manages to stay unnoticed until she's right behind a group. Waiting for them to laugh in relief before noisily starting the chainsaw right behind their heads and chasing them to their cars.

"It's the greatest thing you'll ever see," Steph assured him. Her eyes bright with a manic glee that would be worrying in any other setting. "We'll get front row seats to watch."

The Cave isn't even ready to open yet, but Tim already feels like this is what he's wanted his entire life. It really is a better house than anything he's ever worked before. Years beyond anything he's contemplated trying to run for himself. Tim's having fun just exploring the house and helping to finalize set up. Practicing with Steph in the basement, and listening to everyone joke and interact. Opening night is shaping up to be the best night of Tim's life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I had this written since October but it sort hung there awkwardly with the brushes and I've neglected it despite it being near and dear to my blackened heart.

Alfred is set up in a building that looks like it used to be a corner store. The space is divided by walls that look like they belong there now, but that Tim knows weren't part of the original design. The back is the main lounge space for everyone. There's lockers, tables, and a really motley array of chairs. Mirrors line one whole wall and it's accessed by a door that leads into the yard area that is sandwiched on all sides by buildings. 

Alfred gets the front half where the large windows give him plenty of natural light, and the curious can stop to watch as the older man works. The outside door is always locked, a small sign giving contact information and directions to the main building. Jason's grumbled more than once about idiots not reading and trying to yank the doors open anyway.

"Ah, there you are," Alfred sets down a mess of fabric and pins when Tim enters the workshop. With the older man's proper British accent the place could easily pass as an old time tailor's shop. If it weren't for the massive mutant bat looming over the entire room from one corner. "This way, Mr. Drake."

Tim follows Alfred as the man wanders past some mannequins modeling costumes that look like they were just rescued from a real asylum. "Those won't be ready for this year I am afraid," Alfred says without pausing or even looking back at Tim. "The designs still need to be approved of before we begin stress testing them."

"Of course," Tim mutters and tears his eyes away from a straight jacket that looks like it was torn from Tim Burton's nightmares. The corner furthest from the mutant bat is devoted to make up. There's a reclining chair, lights on stands, and a freestanding chest with small drawers that Alfred flies through. Pulling out brushes and containers faster than Tim can keep track of. "Um, should I-"

"Please have a seat," the man gives Tim a smile as he wheels a medical grade tray over to the chair. He pats the chair with an amused air that Tim feels more than he sees. "This won't take much of your time. I am only testing some designs for now."

The chair swings back with his weight and Tim automatically picks a spot on the ceiling to watch as Alfred examines him. Thoroughly. Tim has always done his own make-up before and it's a bit odd to have someone who isn't a dentist looking this closely at his face. Alfred hums thoughtfully as he tilts Tim's head back and forth. The tip of one finger occasionally pressing against his skin in a way that is unmistakably measuring.

"Are you aware of any allergies you might have?" Alfred asks when he pulls away. Satisfied or not by whatever he was looking for. His hands hover over the tray as he waits for Tim's answer.

"Uh, no," Tim hastily assures him. "I went through the test, so no, not allergic to anything."

Several times, because his mother had been a little paranoid about that. So Tim's not just giving Alfred a lie.

"Excellent," a large brush is selected and that's all the warning Tim's given before he finds it assaulting his face. "There are no elaborate plans for your costume, but it never hurts to be prepared for last minute changes I've learned."

Tim would answer in the affirmative, but that would end with him getting a mouthful of brush as Alfred coats his entire face in some powder. It smells a little, something he's only ever really associated with his mother before. Tim's not sure if it's a brand smell or just how makeup in general smells. Dana hardly wore any when he lived with his father so Tim's field of comparison is limited.

The brushes --because Alfred switches them at a dizzying rate-- tickle along his skin, and Tim tries to keep his face still. Tries not wince as first a pencil and then a long brush get far too close to his eyes for comfort. Tries not to sneeze when a fine dusting of powder gets into his nose and makes it twitch. 

Alfred's gaze is intense and concentrated. Steph had told him that the older man used to work in a theater, and Tim's starting to think she meant that in the same way she meant that Dick used to do a bit of tumbling as a child.

Alfred pauses while Tim's thinking on Steph's tendency to understate and sighs. "I suppose this will suffice until your position is solidified."

"Uh," Tim blinks and takes the small mirror that Alfred pulls out of his pocket. He tilts it up and blinks. A lot, which he only notices because something has been done to his eyes. "Oh."

Tim's face doesn't look like it's been painted over at all. The shades --which Tim can see now that he's sitting up-- are all natural and whatever Alfred did with the brushes just made it look like his face. It's a subtle thing that Alfred did. Tim's face is paler, but not undead looking. His eyes are wider too, and something was done to make his face look rounder. Making Tim look younger and more fragile than he usually does, and that's saying something.

"I look like a victim," Tim concludes with a grimace. "Or like one of the extras in a horror film that dies first."

"Precisely," Alfred takes the mirror back and busies himself with the brushes and containers on his tray. "That is your role this year, and the patrons will not pay much attention to you once Miss Brown comes in."

"True," five seconds is the expected length of time for any encounter in a house. Longer than that is dangerous because it lets the patron get used to you and lessens their fear. "Is this all you needed?"

"For now," Alfred says. The containers are gone. Each in their own little drawer that aren't labeled at all. "Your costume is rather simple and I will require you to try it on much later than anyone else."

Sitting up Tim sees what looks like a brand new and expensive airbrush kit. Tucked into a small space next to the mirror. None of the stickers or plastic removed and a fine layer of dust on it that has to be deliberate because the rest of the workshop is absolutely impeccable. 

"I didn't think I'd get a costume," Tim admits and tries not to be jealous over the perfect waste of equipment. Alfred is obviously a master in many things and doesn't feel the need to use airbrushing. Considering how popular the haunt is, Tim thinks the man is allowed that.

"Of course you get a costume," Alfred arches one eyebrow as he finishes closing the drawers. It's a slow arch that Tim is rather surprised to find he can read a lot into. It's probably a deliberate affect. "All employees do."

Tim, wisely, doesn't protest even though he's a victim and only needs something from Goodwill he can squirt fake blood on. Alfred seems satisfied and his eyebrow goes down. "I'll inform you of your fitting."

Tim escapes rather quickly feeling like he's passed some sort of unofficial interview process. Which is funny seeing as how there really hasn't been any kind of interview at all. He forgets he's wearing the makeup completely until Steph wolf whistles at him and Jason nearly walks into a wall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The batcave haunted house au party at Jasons place for opening night! I'll bring the alcohol you bring the lingerie

Opening night is every bit as amazing as Tim anticipated it being. Nothing goes wrong as far as he can see, at least not in his area. He's practiced with Steph long enough that neither of them miss a single cue. Even When Steph has to run to another room to make an appearance every once in a while. People scream and cringe and run just like they're supposed to, and by the end of the night Tim feels elated and wrung out.

"Party at Jason's place!" Steph laughs in Tim's ears. Still ringing from the loud techno beat that's the soundtrack for the house. She looks every bit as manic as the character she plays even without the costume. "I'll bring the alcohol, you bring the lingerie!"

Tim bats away the cloth thrown at his head. Overlarge granny panties that are part of the set in the foul laundry room. His throat aches from overuse when he croaks out, "How?"

Tim lives and breathes Halloween, it's one of the few things in life he's willing to admit he's obsessed about. Even a life spent working in different haunts never gets him quiet prepared for opening night though. His whole body hurts from the constant running and play fighting with Steph. His throat is on fire from screaming and begging for help. His eyelids feel like there's sand behind them, and all he wants to do right now is collapse to sleep the day away.

The next night will be better, and the one after that even more so. Tim knows it won't be long before he gets back into practice, but opening night will always suck worst for him. He doesn't see where Steph, and Cass now, get all their energy from. The two of them had more active roles than Tim.

"Alcohol numbs the pain, Pretty Doll," a heavy arm gets draped over his shoulders and Tim winces a little under the weight Jason puts on him. Jason radiates heat despite the cooler air of the night, and Tim gets distracted by that for a bit. "Come on. You'll get your second wind on the drive over."

Tim's not one hundred percent sure he _can_ drive at the moment. His feet feel like lead as he's dragged out to the parking lot. Fenced in for the employees. Groups of half dressed and mostly still made-up actors trudge along. Laughing and talking. Each with their own plans for the night.

"I don't think-" Tim starts then stops when Jason does. Tim shouldn't be so surprised that Jason rides a motorcycle. "How much of a cliche are you, exactly?"

Jason looks unfairly _good_ sitting on it. The dark denim of his jeans stretching over his legs is almost too much for Tim's brain to process right now. The flirtatious grin Jason gives him doesn't help. "I _own_ my cliche. Now get on Pretty Doll. I'm taking you for a ride."

Distantly, Tim can hear Steph catcalling, or maybe it's Cass. Tim's thankful he's still wearing the light but very concealing makeup of the Doll right now, because his ability to deal with Jason dropping horrible innuendos is pretty much non-existent at the moment. He's not too tired take the offer of the ride though. Steph would murder him for passing up that chance.

"Thanks, but I'm not that interested in rides under two minutes," Tim says just to hear Jason laugh as he revs the bike unnecessarily. He holds on tighter than needed when Jason peels out of the lot, and then closes his eyes because he's too tired to deal with anything else.

Jason shouts something on the short ride to his apartment, within walking distance really, but it's not until they're stopped that Tim actually hears it. "Hey, you alright?"

Tim's throat hurts, his body hurts, his head hurts, and he's tired. Also massively hungry. He'll be fine after today, but there's really no point in bringing any of that up to anyone. It'd just make them worry needlessly. Tim opens his eyes and leans back from Jason's back. There's a white smudge where he'd been resting his forehead against him.

"I was promised alcohol," Tim says and it's enough to wipe away the genuine worry that had been creeping into Jason's expression.

"Brown's got that," Jason promises and turns to lead Tim up into the quiet complex. Tim wonders how the other residents are going to take having an unknown number of haunt workers dropping in at 2 AM for a party. "Come on up and eat something. It'll make you feel better before the others get here. It's why I wanted you to ride with me."

"So you didn't want to see my lingerie?" Tim asks even as he feels grateful for the action. Food would help him level out.

Jason throws a wink and a grin over his shoulder as he stops at a door. "Pretty Doll, I'll _always_ want that."

Tim laughs a little and follows the man in. He'll eat, maybe take a drink or two, and then pass out where ever he's sitting. Not too bad an end for the night.


End file.
